The thought that I might possibly not have gone to Morocco is atrocious. You see I hate to be rushed when I travel. I should add “Slowly” to my blog motto of Journey, Destination, Experience!
I was afraid that in our two months away, we would not have enough time in Spain and Portugal (Lisbon) if we went to Morocco. Once the joint decision has been made on what area of the world we will visit next, Budget Hubby, bows out and leaves the rest of the planning up to me. (He comes into play when we actually arrive there). This does not mean that I disregard his opinions. The thing is that after living together for over 30 years, I actually know most of his opinions on travel (and most other things)!
This left me in a quandary because Morocco had been a dream of mine for about thirty years, and even though Marty threw in the line “we may as well go to Morocco while we are in Spain”, I was not so sure. You see I thought he would not really enjoy it and that he was only saying that because he knew I wanted to go. (See what a thoughtful person I am).
To cut a long story short, we went. And I am so glad we did because we BOTH loved it.
On our last night in Essaouira, we were down at the port taking photos of the fantastic sunset (again), as if we could ever forget it, and enjoying the promenading of people and the swooping of seagulls one last time when I spotted one lonely man with a cart selling knitted fisherman caps (that is what I call them).
He was situated right beside the cleanest squat toilet in the world, where the attendant wears a green coat and has an array of cleaning products to make the fussiest housewife proud.
I couldn’t help myself – I had an overwhelming desire to grab one last little piece of Essaouira – and I had been checking out the old men that stand around knitting these caps for days. I purchased two caps – they are expertly made from chunky, coarse, greasy wool. No tying the different colours of wool together at the back like I do – No – the inside of these caps are as beautiful as the outside. I tried them on and both the cap seller and Budget Hubby smiled indulgently. I knew I would never be able to wear them at home in NQ, but hey, they were calling me!
When I got them home I wondered what use I could put them to. They posed around the house invitingly – after all, they were one of the few things I actually unpacked! I tried filling them with knick-knacks, but Nooo, they screamed their objection.
Then my plethora of tomatoes started ripening. A daily routine collection filled old ice-cream containers to overflowing. Then it came to me – the caps – the ideal robust container, and so attractive and flexible. The tomatoes sit in them on the bench until perfect ripeness is achieved then I pop the hats into the fridge. Usually one sits out on the bench while one is in the fridge, except for the purposes of this photo, where they both posed together on the bench with a plate that comes from Safi, north of Essaouira.
Outside our home in Tropical North Queensland, I hear Rosellas squawking in the Golden Pendas and White Cockatoos screeching at me from the top of the old dead tree in our back garden, but inside I hear monster seagulls wheeling above a Port at sunset, and my heart smiles.
Is your heart in the habit of smiling?
This is part of Travel Photo Thursday at Budget Travelers Sandbox. Come over and enjoy the fun.
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